


Smooth Criminal

by andchaos



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Bad Pick-Up Lines, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Foot in mouth: the short story, M/M, Mutual dumbassery, TRULy the height of morosexuality!, two idiots falling for each other despite being complete and total Fools!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-06 14:55:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16389824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andchaos/pseuds/andchaos
Summary: Dennis really, really wants to pick up the hot guy who keeps coming into the bar every weekend. Somehow the words keep getting fumbled on the way out of his mouth. He's trying, he swears.





	1. you’re so gorgeous, i can’t say anything to your face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the BIGGEST shoutout to [casey](https://youwillcallher.tumblr.com/) for helping me generate some of the worst pickup lines on the planet! morosexual rights!
> 
> brought to you by gems like, "it's like we're hat twins!", "...your hair looks small," and "you're the one that's good" xo

The bar was loud and _busy_. Pride Month always got Paddy’s a little wilder than usual, but this was seriously out of control. Dennis was already drowning in drink orders, and it wasn’t even ten o’clock.

“Dee!” he called. “Mojito at table five, I told you ten times already!”

“You did not!” she said as she breezed past, a tray of drinks wobbling on her palm. “Don’t blame this on me.”

“Bitch,” Dennis yelled after her.

“Hey!” A hand shot out, waving from down at the end of the bar. “I’ve been waiting for almost ten minutes!”

“Give me,” Dennis said curtly, whirling around, “a _second_ —”

He pulled up short when he caught sight of the furious face to whom the voice belonged. He recognized this guy.

Dennis had never spoken to the man past slinging him drinks, but he knew who he was, all right. Him and his friend always came in about twice a week, got loudly drunk, and sang along badly to the songs on the jukebox at top fucking volume, usually while trying really badly to dance. They were almost guaranteed to try to start a fight with somebody before the night was through, too. Dee kept telling Dennis to just throw them out and ban them for life already because she was sick of cleaning up blood out of the floor, but Dennis was hesitant to see them go.

The fact that the guy was objectively smoking hot was the entirety of the problem. Dennis had planned on speaking to him past asking him what he wanted to drink — he always just ordered Everclear shots and beer, like a fucking maniac — for at least a month already but he never seemed to get around to it. Still, he wasn’t going to ban him before he gave it the old college try.

He slid over the drinks he was holding to their designated patrons and then slipped down the bar to the man. He leaned over, elbows propped up on the counter, and flashed him a bright smile.

“Hey,” said Dennis, in the most alluring voice he had. “What can I get for you?”

Goddamn it. Not exactly the line he’d wanted to go with. Saying that to customers was just ingrained from years of working in the industry; it came out without him thinking.

“Uh, four shots of Everclear and the same amount of beers,” said the guy, flicking a glance over his shoulder. Sure enough, his friend was sitting a little ways away at a table, and he flashed him two thumbs up. The hot one turned back to Dennis.

“Coming right up,” said Dennis. “You want to open up a tab?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure thing. What kind of beer do you want?”

“What’s on tap?”

Dennis told him. The guy frowned.

“Uh, just some PBRs.”

Dennis felt that not asking the guy for his ID was a pretty good sign that he at least remembered him, but he just stared off into space while he waited on his drinks like he didn’t notice Dennis at all. Goddamn it.

Dennis piled the shots and beers onto a tray and slid it over the counter. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” he said, slapping his card down on the bar top. He walked away before Dennis even picked it up.

Dennis checked his credit card for a name, but the guy had done something fucking weird to it. The last name was scratched out badly with Sharpie and all it left was the first name. _Mac_.

Well. Having that was better than nothing.

He was kept busy with more orders for a little while. Dee kept shouting about a whiskey sour and how it didn’t have nearly enough booze in it for whoever kept threatening to throw it in her face. Dennis really wanted her to fuck off, and ideally the rest of the crowd too. A stress headache was beginning to form very specifically above his left eye and he was already thinking about going back home, burrowing under his covers, and lying in the dark for several hours after this. Fuck Pride Month. Other than the parade, he never had a good day during the whole thing.

“Two more PBRs.”

Mac had reappeared in front of him. Dennis tried to smooth over his frustrated expression at once, but it didn’t seem to go over too well because Mac just looked at him kind of funny.

“Uh, dude?” he said, dipping his head down to catch a better look at him. “Beer?”

“Right,” Dennis muttered. “Sure thing. One sec.”

This had gone on long enough, he thought furiously. Today sucked and he was just going to go for it. Just straight up hit on the guy. What was the worst that could happen? At least it had the _chance_ of making this night a little better.

“So,” said Dennis, sliding the cans over the counter, and Mac paused halfway through heading for his table to turn back to him. “Uh…Do you come here often?”

Okay, he reasoned. It wasn’t his _best_ line but it was something. He had had to think on his feet, after all, and nobody did their best work then. At least he was in the door. After all, nobody said shit like that and didn’t secretly mean “let’s bang” so it was at least obvious that he was _flirting_.

“Uh,” said Mac, forehead pinching. “You just served me, like, half an hour ago.”

Dennis flinched.

“I know that,” he said. Mac just stared some more. Clearing his throat, Dennis continued quickly, “I just mean that I, um, have seen you around.”

“Then you already know that I _do_ come here often,” said Mac, squinting at him in confusion.

Dennis paused.

“Well…I’m Dennis,” he said after a beat, trying for another winning smile.

“Mac,” he returned slowly.

“Uh, so…” He cast his gaze around and got stuck on the can he’d just handed him. “So, PBR is…good.”

He narrowly resisted the urge to rub at his own forehead in self-pity, right where the stress headache was beginning to worsen. Mac’s eyes widened a little.

“Yep,” he said. “That’s why I ordered it.”

“Yeah…”

Mac was just looking at him, and the heat of his incredulous gaze was starting to get to him. Dennis glanced down, choking a little, trying and failing to fumble up a good save, but before he could Mac just arched a brow, muttered, “Whatever, dude,” and walked away back to his table.

Dennis buried his head in his arms. God _damn_ it. Probably Mac knew _exactly_ what he was intimating but he just wasn’t interested. Christ, Dennis really should have figured out if he was gay or not first before trying to make a move. Just because they got busier during Pride Month didn’t mean that anything about the place itself screamed _All our workers are gay as shit!_ or required that the clientele was either. Even, though, really, they should probably start putting up signs. Like, _We seriously don’t hire straight people! Just a slutty pair of twins who will try badly to bang the patrons_. Or straight-up renaming the place Paddy’s Gay Bar instead. Dennis groaned into his forearms.

“Hey, jerkwad!” yelled Dee, and the next thing he knew he was getting smacked roundly on the shoulder with a drinks tray.

“Ow!” he yelled, jumping up and whirling around to glare at her. Dee just snarled back at him.

“Stop sulking about whatever the fuck drama you’ve got going on and help me serve drinks!” she said sharply. “God, am I the only one who works around here?”

“Bitch, I’m waiting on half these tables for you.”

“You wish! I keep _telling_ you were need to get some more help around here—”

She kept ranting, but Dennis was no longer listening. He glanced up just then and noticed that Mac was looking at him. Dennis paused mid-conversation to look back. Mac didn’t seem too annoyed about before, or weirded out either. He was just watching Dennis, his expression open and mostly blank. When Dennis shot him a small, easy smile, Mac offered him one right back.

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t as bad as he thought. Maybe he didn’t have to get a jump start on the new signs after all.

Dennis smiled at him just a little longer before going back to work. Mac and his friend stuck around until closing, and Dennis was intimately aware of them as he moved around the room, even though they only gave drink orders to Dee for the rest of the night.

 

A week later, and Mac was back sitting at one of the tables. This time, though, his friend wasn’t with him.

Which reminded Dennis of his second objective: If the guy _was_ gay, definitely find out if the friend was actually a boyfriend. He’d been punched out before and it wasn’t an experience he had any interest in repeating.

Dennis glanced around to check that Dee was busy elsewhere before he went over to his table. Mac looked up at him as he approached.

“Hey there,” said Dennis, in his best simpering manner. It was a tone and look that had been known to drop guys to their knees before. Or let them let Dennis get down on the floor, whatever.

Mac, though, barely batted an eye.

“Hey, man,” he said. He rapped his knuckles once on the table. “Uh, can I get a beer?”

“Sure thing. What’s your poison?”

“PBR.”

“You got it.”

Dennis slapped the table lightly and left. He cracked the PBR before he set it back down for him. Mac murmured a thank you, but Dennis didn’t go right away, instead hovering for a moment nearby. Mac’s attention flickered back to him and lingered. Dennis paused, the question about his friend on the tip of his tongue.

Instead, he heard himself say, “Let me know if I can get you anything else.”

He gave Mac a tight smile and walked away.

Due to a small issue with an exploding keg and four different customers coming up to ream Dennis out personally for poorly made drinks and watered-down beer — all problems that he was relatively sure Dee was responsible for — he didn’t get a chance to go around to his tables making sure they were good to go. As a result, he ended up with seven more complaints about the poor service, including, unfortunately, from the one person Dennis was eying.

“It’s not even that busy,” Mac said, petulant and halfway to sulky, when Dennis set another beer down on the table. “What’s taking you guys so long back there tonight?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Dennis muttered. “Slight problem in the keg room, and with my sister’s less than stellar customer service.”

He rolled his eyes. Mac’s, in comparison, widened.

“Oh,” he said. “That’s your sister?”

“Yeah. Dee,” he said, nodding at where she was fucking up what drink went to whom at one of the tables in the back.

“That explains a lot,” said Mac, blinking at him.

“About what?”

“Why you yell at each other so much,” said Mac. “I thought maybe you were like, a mutually abusive couple or something.”

“What?” Dennis yelped. “God, no! Ew. _Dee_?” He cleared his throat. “Besides, me and Dee…We’re both like, really gay, dude.”

“ _Really_?” Somehow he seemed even more incredulous about this than he had been about them being related.

“Yeah, really,” said Dennis. He sighed, waving his hand in the air. “Anyway, sorry about the wait. Things should pick up from now on.” He started to leave, then paused, and let himself smirk slowly. “Although, you know. You’ll get my attention much easier up at the counter. Better service, guaranteed.”

Mac took a slow sip of his drink, but Dennis could see him grinning around the rim of the can anyway.

“I’ll remember that,” Mac mumbled.

Dennis grinned at him, but only for a split second before he was called by another irate-sounding customer. He pulled a grimace and disappeared to go wait on them.

After another couple trips out from behind the bar to fetch refills for people, he planted himself, ready to post up there for a while. Going around and around the room really sucked. People were always pulling on his arm and he kept tripping over purses — let Dee worry about the floor. He’d handle it from back here just fine.

Unfortunately, Dee seemed to have the same idea.

“Those guys are all animals out there,” she said sourly, putting down a couple of empty bottles behind the bar and then straightening. She swept her hair out of her eyes. “Look, how about I man the bar for a while and you get the tables? There’s more people clamoring over here anyway, it’s much crazier, and the tips are always better out on the floor—”

“Don’t even try it,” Dennis said dryly. His eyes alit down the end of the bar, where Mac was waving for a drink. Mac grinned when Dennis saw him.

Dee turned and caught him at exactly the same moment.

“I’ll get—”

“I’m on it,” Dennis said before she could. He grabbed up another can of beer on his way over, and set it down in front of Mac with a charming smile. “Refill?”

“Wow, you were right.” Mac cracked open the PBR. “The service over here is a lot better.”

“What can I say?” said Dennis. “I hate to leave a guy waiting. I mean, a good-looking guy like you…”

He said the last part on a whim and immediately wished that he hadn’t. He ducked his head down, shaking it, only to glance up and see that Mac was grinning. It was definitely mostly teasing.

“Anyway,” Dennis mumbled, “I, uh—”

Luckily, he was saved by a woman yelling his name very loudly down the bar. Dennis ducked away to fight about customer service with her, but out of the corner of his eye, he could see Mac watching him. He was still smiling.

Dennis ignored him for nearly an hour after that awful attempt at seduction; everyone was restless, drunk, and irritable, so it wasn’t difficult to busy himself with other customers. A few times he even caught Mac leaning over the bar to grab more beer for himself, but he elected to just ignore it rather than having to go talk to him again to ream him out for stealing. He’d mark it up on his tab later or something.

But he could only make it about forty-five minutes. Then he was midway through taking a shot with Dee when he heard, clear as day:

“Hey, pretty boy.”

Dennis choked on the whiskey halfway down his throat. Dee thumped him on the back while he coughed hard. She passed him a beer, which he chugged gratefully.

“Uh, I think that’s for you,” she said. She was smirking as she jerked her head slightly in Mac’s direction.

“I’m aware,” Dennis said through gritted teeth.

He grabbed a beer at random from the cooler as he stalked over. Dennis slammed it down on the bar. Mac was still just smiling.

“That’s not PBR,” he said lightly.

“Well, you’ve already stolen about four bottles from us, and I haven’t charged you for any of them,” Dennis said tightly. “So, I’d take it.”

Mac didn’t look fazed at all by his mood. “You got me there.”

Dennis stood there for a moment, clenching his fists, teeth gritted. He had the distinct feeling that Mac had something else he wanted to say, but he didn’t; Dennis started to turn away.

“So, do I get to get your number?”

Dennis turned back to him, slowly. He studied Mac’s expression for any indication that he was making fun of him, but he seemed to have a relatively open face. Not a whole lot of secret emotions lurking underneath the ones clearly spelled out for the world.

“Are you serious?”

Mac shrugged. “Well, sure.”

Dennis raised an eyebrow at him. Still, this was good news; this, he could work with.

“ _Why_?”

“Figured if you were hitting on me,” said Mac, gesturing around with the hand holding his drink so it sloshed a little to the floor, “I figured that was your next move.”

“Are you just trying to flatter me so I don’t charge you for the stolen beer?” Dennis accused. His eyes narrowed, the corners of his mouth turned up.

Mac laughed. “Well, that would just be a perk.”

For a few seconds they just stayed there, grinning at each other. Jesus, but he’s even prettier up close, Dennis thought; from this distance his freckles were a lot more pronounced, and they were scattered all over his face and across his exposed shoulders in his muscle tee. His eyes crinkled when he smiled.

Dennis jerked his chin toward the empty space beside him.

“Where’s your friend that’s usually here with you?” he asked. “Uh — I’m assuming he’s a friend.”

Mac glanced to the side like he expected to see the other guy standing there.

“Who, Charlie?” he said. “He came down with the croup a couple nights ago, couldn’t make it out of bed.”

Dennis’s forehead creased as he thought that over.

“Isn’t that a kids’ disease?” he asked finally. Mac just shrugged. “Um, okay.” Dennis folded his arms on the counter and leaned up on the balls of his feet to get closer to him, working his expression back into something coy. “So, is he your boyfriend, though?”

“Uh, no. He’s definitely not my boyfriend, ‘cause I could do much better than him.”

Dennis drummed his fingers on the counter. “So…No boyfriend at all, then, or — or a girl? What I mean is, isn’t your boyfriend gonna be pissed you’re coming out to bars like this without him?”

“Oh?” said Mac. “And what kind of bar _is_ this, exactly?”

“You know,” Dennis said slyly. He circled one finger through a pool of condensation on the countertop, and they both watched it loop through the water. “We’re not technically a gay bar, but we do tend to attract that… _clientele_.”

“Maybe it’s the bartender,” said Mac mischievously. “I hear he tries to make lots of moves on innocent customers.”

“ _Tries_ to make moves?” Dennis echoed. “Excuse me. Moves are being made as we speak.”

“ _Come here often_?” Mac said, and Dennis paused, his retort stuck in his throat.

“I — am making improvements—” he stammered, face heating. “Adjustments are — And, you know, who said you’re the innocent customer anyway?”

“Oh, I’m not?”

“No,” said Dennis, bright, stomach burning but in kind of a good way. It was the same feeling he got before first dates that he didn’t put off several times, and his first kiss in high school, and the first time he stayed up talking to a guy after sleeping with him instead of just slinking home in the middle of the night. Excitement. A headrush. The knowledge that something big and scary and thrilling was about to happen. “You’ve got us nailed down, I’ll admit. But me and Dee, we like a challenge.”

“What, I’m too easy or something?”

Dennis bit his lip.

“Way too easy,” he breathed, flicking his gaze over Mac. “I could get you in a heartbeat.”

Mac tipped his bottle back, eyes stuck on Dennis’s. Dennis watched him, hungry, studying the bob of his throat as he swallowed and the flush rising in his cheeks with every drink he consumed. Mac lowered the bottle again.

“Well,” he said, sliding a five over the counter, “thanks for the beer, then, Dennis. I’m gonna go test my luck with someone who _will_ be interested, I guess. Keep the change.”

Dennis trapped the bill to the counter with his fingers, but he didn’t pull his hand back. Instead he watched Mac walk away, throwing glances over his shoulder, as he made his way over to where a few people were swaying near the jukebox. Mac approached some guy and Dennis finally folded up the five and slid it into his back pocket.

“Hey! You’d better be keeping that safe until it gets to the register,” said Dee.

Dennis startled and looked over at her. “What?”

“I saw you slip that money into your pocket,” said Dee sharply, stalking over to him. “Cough it up, freeloader.”

“ _I’m_ a freeloader?” said Dennis, voice jumping up an octave. “I’m literally in the middle of a shift!”

“Yeah, and you’ve been eyefucking that guy for like, ten minutes instead of doing any work,” said Dee, gesturing across the room at where Mac had already managed to wind the other guy’s arms around his own waist so they could dance. “Nice one, by the way. Getting rejected by trailer trash now, I see?”

Dennis scowled. “You don’t know anything about the situation.”

“Well, he’s covered in shitty tattoos and reeks like cigarettes, and he’s currently getting his ass grinded on by some other dude. So it doesn’t really matter one way or the other.” Dee shoved the rag she was holding at his chest, and Dennis fumbled to catch it on instinct. Dee jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “Some fuckboy broke a margarita glass over at table three. I’m juggling four orders, do you mind?”

Dennis glowered for a long moment before muttering something rude at her and stomping around her to go clean up the mess. Dee flipped him off right back and started tinkering with the bottles under the bar.

Dennis collected all the broken glass in a bucket, messily wiped up the spill — it was still sticky, but there was no point doing a proper cleanup until they closed anyway — and went back to dump the bucket down the sink. He hip-checked Dee out of his way and started rinsing his hands. Dennis looked up as he was drying them, and his gaze caught Mac’s across the room.

Mac was moving against this other guy even more intently than before, rolling his ass back on him over and over. The sick thing was that Mac’s attention was fixed on Dennis’s face the whole time he was doing it. Dennis only paused in shock for a second before he smoothed his expression over, raising an eyebrow.

Mac inclined his head back and whispered something in the guy’s ear. Dennis narrowed his eyes, more thoughtful than angry, as he uncapped a beer for himself and took a pull. He flicked his gaze down as Mac turned back around, moving his hips against the other guy, chest to chest this time — dick to dick, more like. Mac tossed his head back as the guy lowered his mouth to his neck, and Dennis glanced back up at Mac’s face, and Mac was smirking. Mac turned back around to keep grinding on him.

Dennis stood and watched, doing nothing, as Mac reached back and took the guy’s hand in his. He flashed a little wink at Dennis, and then pulled the guy across the bar and out the door with him.

Dennis smiled into his next sip of beer. Oh, the game was _so_ on.

 

“Hey there,” Dennis said lowly.

Mac had been studying the room behind him, but he turned around now. Immediately, his lips lifted up into a smirk.

This was the third week in a row that he’d been back and sat right up at the bar. He usually chatted with Dennis all night, then went home with somebody else. He always waited until Dennis was looking to pull the guys he was with out the door with him. He always sat around while Dennis worked on other customers all night, too; Dennis sometimes pretended not to notice Mac snagging beers from behind the counter while his and Dee’s backs were turned, and Mac never left a tip. Sometimes he heard Mac yelling at guys trying to steal from the bar the same way he did.

Now, Dennis put two shot glasses full of bourbon on the counter, and he slid one across to Mac.

“Hey,” he said. “Was just seeing where Charlie got off to.”

A second later, there came a loud and prolonged scream from the women’s bathroom. They both looked to the door, startled, and then turned their wide eyes back on each other.

“Dee,” Dennis called without looking away from Mac.

“I’m on it,” she yelled back. She put her beer down on a random table and headed in that direction.

“What’s he doing in—”

“I don’t know, and trust me, we don’t want to know,” said Mac, holding up his hands. He wrapped his fingers around his bottle again after a moment, relaxing back over the counter, spine curving; he licked his lips, and Dennis’s attention snagged on the motion. “So, got any drink specials on the menu tonight?”

“We never do,” said Dennis, smiling, shaking his head slowly.

“No? What if I had a drink with the bartender?”

“The bartender isn’t offering,” said Dennis.

“The bartender just brought me a drink,” Mac countered.

He raised the full shot glass up in the air. Rolling his eyes, Dennis lifted his own and clinked it with Mac’s.

“To challenges?” he offered.

“I don’t toast,” Mac returned wryly.

Dennis raised his eyebrow. Still, he tossed the drink back along with Mac. He kept his eyes on his face, even when Mac closed his own to swallow around the burn.

“Christ,” said Mac, swigging his beer to wash out the taste. “What’s the alcohol content on that?”

“Strong enough to get the job done,” Dennis said grimly.

Mac levered him with a long look. At last, he nodded a little toward him and said, “Stay for a few minutes. Have a drink with me.”

“I just did,” Dennis pointed out.

Mac looked passively back at him. Dennis was already reaching down to grab some liquor and a glass.

Mac mostly just watched while Dennis mixed himself a martini. Here and there, he murmured a question or comment about the drink, and especially about how strong Dennis was making it. He seemed to know a lot about making drinks himself, honestly, asking why he put the olives in first instead of last and making fun of him for putting in a lemon twist. Dennis rolled his eyes as he topped off the glass, sucking down one of the olives after the first sip and humming around the toothpick. He leaned his elbows on the counter again, enjoying watching Mac’s eyes darken a little as he got closer.

“So, you know about what I do all day,” he said, waving vaguely around the bar. “Tell me. What about you?”

Mac shrugged a little.

“Odd jobs here and there. Enough to pay the bills…enough to let me stick around here most weekends,” he added with a little laugh.

“You in college?”

“No. Never went. I’d be out by now, anyway,” said Mac. “I’m twenty-four.”

“Fair,” Dennis allowed, considering. “What do these ‘odd jobs’ typically consist of?”

Mac’s smile turned a little dark.

“Nothing I need to spread around,” he said enigmatically, jerking his eyebrows, but he almost immediately split into a silly grin and added, “Let me know if you need drugs. Or any boxes moved in the back, I work for Fedex on the weekends.”

Dennis gave a surprised little laugh.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, popping another olive into his mouth.

There was a small lull; Mac busied himself drinking, and Dennis cast around for something to tip the conversation. They always stayed frustratingly on the edge between flirting and a casual chat during these evenings together; Mac knew he was gay, and the fact that he kept coming back was probably evidence enough that he was too, and that he was interested — but still, he had to do something to push the scales a little in the opposite direction from _maybe-this-isn’t-just-a-friendly-talk_.

“So,” said Dennis, without bothering to come up with a good end to that sentence before he started it. Too late; Mac was looking at him now. Dennis fumbled for the first pickup he could think of and ended up landing on, “Are you from Tennessee?” It wasn’t brilliant but it was _fine_. He had done better with worse. He plunged forward bravely, with a smirk and all, “Because—”

“No,” Mac interrupted flatly. He looked blank and surprised. “I’m from Philly.”

Dennis blinked at him.

“I get that,” he said uncertainly. “That’s not what I was — I just mean, it doesn’t matter. That’s not the end of the—”

“But I’m _not_ from Tennessee,” Mac said, still marvelously nonplussed. “I grew up, like, ten minutes from here.”

Dennis struggled with this answer for a long moment.

“Okay,” he said, with what he considered to be miraculous patience. “But it’s just a line, dude. I’m trying to—”

“It doesn’t matter what you’re trying to say,” Mac said, brow creasing. “Because I’m not _from_ Tennessee. I’m from Philadelphia.”

Dennis stared at him. Mac looked right back, with wide eyes and a very blank expression. The worst part was that he didn’t seem to be putting any of this on as an act at all; for once, he wasn’t teasing him. He was just stating his facts.

“Okay,” said Dennis slowly.

It was so incredibly irritating that Mac was looking good right now. Dennis’s brain turned over, trying to salvage this conversation a little, but it was hopeless; he snagged instead on Mac’s bright pink cheeks, and the way his tongue swiped over his lower lip.

Okay, Dennis thought intently, this was fine. If Mac was going to be incredibly dense about this, then he could work with that. He’d bagged stupider guys than this, and dug himself out of bigger holes.

His attention was still somewhere on Mac’s throat, right on a spot under the curve of his ear that looked soft and slightly damp — a place that Dennis was seized with the urge to breathe in and maybe never move from — when he said in a wild attempt to salvage the lame line,

“Okay…Are you from Philly? Because you’re—” Why the _fuck_ did he keep plunging into speech without mapping out the ending? He fumbled for a finish to that sentence. Any wordplay, any at all. “—you’re the only…filly…I want to…ride…?”

It was very possible that not going for wordplay would have been better after all.

The enormous stupidity of what he’d said sunk over him very, very slowly. He become horribly aware, with a sluggish sinking feeling, that he was just staring at Mac with his lips parted and a blush rising on his cheeks. Mac, even more uncomfortably, was just looking at him right back in dead silence.

Dennis raised his martini back up to his mouth and hiccupped with how fast he tried to swallow as much as he could in as short a time as possible. Mac’s cheeks started to darken a little as color came back to him.

“Dude,” he said, really incredulously. “If you want to smash, there are a _million_ much better ways to say that.”

Dennis put his drink down, a little harder than he meant to in his nervousness and with his slightly trembling hands. His skin pricked like the AC had been turned up crazy high all of a sudden, but he was warming up like the heating had been cranked at the same time.

“Uh—” He coughed, scratching at the back of his neck. “I’m usually, like, way smoother than that.”

“Yeah?” Mac folded his arms on the counter, getting comfortable, and closer. “Okay, have another shot.”

Dennis startled. “What?”

“Come on. You’re usually way better at this, right?” Mac swept his arm out in a semi-circle, palm up. “So give it another try.”

“Oh, uh…Okay.” Dennis rubbed his hands together. Mac just watched him around his beer, looking bizarrely happy. “How’s this? I like my men how I like my coffee.”

Mac snorted into his drink. He got himself back under control in a few seconds, looking expectantly at him.

“Oh yeah? How’s that?”

Dennis curved a sultry smile at him.

“Strong and sweet,” he purred. He looked at Mac from under his lashes, face tipped down, and bit his lip.

Mac actually got a little red at that. Dennis’s smile grew as Mac struggled to absorb this.

“Well — I guess I am,” he said, blinking rapidly.

Dennis’s grin widened.

“You sure are,” he said. He let his gaze linger as he looked him up and down, letting Mac see him do it. Mac flushed harder and slugged back more of his beer. “Hey, it’s your turn.”

“What?”

“Well, I’m dishing out so many super slick lines on you,” Dennis explained. “I’m like, making you putty in my hands and shit. So, now you try to win me over back.”

Mac shook his head.

“I don’t have any lines like that,” he said, fiddling with his collar. “I can’t think of anything.”

“Well, you’ve gotta have something,” said Dennis. “Something you usually say to guys to get them to come home with you. Like, what do you typically say to men to get them interested?”

“Uh — Nothing,” said Mac.

“Nothing?” Dennis repeated incredulously. “Come on, dude. I’ve seen you pick up guys in here before — what’s your move? How do you let them know, ‘Hey, I’m interested!’ or get them to start talking to you?”

“Seriously, man. There’s nothing!”

“Come _on_.” Dennis rolled his eyes, a little bit annoyed that Mac was holding out on him. Dennis had made enough of an ass of himself that he couldn’t imagine that Mac’s go-tos were any _worse_. He seemed to do pretty well for himself. “There can’t be nothing.”

Mac gestured at him. “Well, you started talking to me first, and I didn’t say anything except, ‘Hey, grab me some more beer.’ So you tell me.”

Dennis’s forehead creased. Well, that was true. After a second, he shook his head.

“Do you got a closer, at least?”

“Uh…” Mac finally turned a little red. He bit his lip. “Um, not exactly.”

“Oh, it must be _really_ bad,” said Dennis delightedly, leaning in again. “What is it?”

“Nothing, really,” Mac said, but he was looking shifty and uncomfortable. He fidgeted around in his seat. Dennis just watched him, expectant and thrilled, and finally he mumbled, “Usually I just…grind on a guy for awhile and then ask him point-blank if he wants to come back to my place and fuck me.”

Dennis nearly spat out some of his martini. Absurdity of that aside, the mental image suddenly dominating all his other thoughts was one of Mac leaning in close and whispering that exact thing to him. Dennis’s whole face was turning red.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered at last. He shook his head, trying to hide how ridiculously interested in that exact scenario he would be. He hurried to say, “That’s — that’s absurd, man. There’s no finesse at all!”

Mac shrugged, hands spread.

“That can’t seriously go well for you,” said Dennis.

Mac raised an eyebrow.

“Well — no, not every time,” he admitted. “But it’s a fifty-fifty shot. Can’t go wrong with that.”

“How often does that work?” Dennis marveled. How long had he been applying his talents way more than necessary?

“Maybe half the time,” said Mac. “If he gets skittish or just wants to hang out for a while longer, I usually bolt. I don’t know if they’d come around if I stuck around. Maybe.”

“Damn.”

Dennis sipped at his drink, turning the scenario over. No doubt it streamlined efficiency, but he tended to be able to pull the guys that he laid down moves for closer to seventy percent of the time. Was less work trying to lure them in really worth the dip in overall numbers?

He was still thinking this over when Mac put his beer down and slipped some money next to it. He started to get up when Dennis refocused on him.

“You’re leaving?”

Mac flipped him a little smirk.

“Well, if you won’t believe me,” he said casually. “Gotta show you my system in action. Gotta prove my point, you know?”

But he winked at Dennis as he walked away. Dennis stood there behind the counter, wondering what the hell just happened, when Mac’s friend Charlie filled his empty space. Dennis didn’t know him as well; he had only spoken to him to get drink orders, mostly ignoring him to flirt shamelessly with Mac instead.

“Hey,” he said, waving to get Dennis’s attention. “What happened to my friend who was just here?”

Still a little dumbfounded, Dennis raised his arm and pointed across the room, where Mac was leaning on the pool table to talk to one of the players with a cue. A moment later, the other guy handed his stick to a friend and went with Mac over to the jukebox, to pick a song. They started dancing together shortly after. Mac didn’t look up at Dennis once.

Charlie banged his fist on the counter and Dennis turned back to him.

“Goddamn it,” Charlie sighed. “Every fucking time, he ditches me for this shit. Alright, a shot of whatever’s strongest. Hit me.”

Dennis took out two shot glasses. Charlie looked at him, eyebrow raised with interest, when Dennis clinked his drink with Charlie’s before they tossed it back. They stayed like that for a couple of hours, drinking and talking together, long after Mac and the guy he was dancing on left the bar.

 

Mac was back the following Friday; Dennis looked up when the door opened, seven p.m. still relatively early for them so it warranted some attention when somebody came in, and he brightened when he saw who it was. Mac waved at him and crossed over to the bar.

“Hey,” he said, slipping out of his leather jacket. He draped it over the seat before he sat down. “How’s it going?”

Dennis licked his lips as his eyes slowly traced Mac’s bare arms. Goddamn, his t-shirts were ugly as shit and his tattoos were fucking tacky but fuck him if they didn’t turn him on. God, why was Dennis always more into idiots than anyone else.

“Getting better,” he said wryly, reaching behind the bar. “Hmm. I feel like you’re feeling whiskey tonight.”

“Oh, you read my mind.”

Dennis poured him a healthy glassful of their second-worst brand and passed it over to him. Mac raised it to him in a slight thank-you and then tasted it; he made a happy little noise when he did. He put the glass back down, flicking Dennis a small smile.

“So, are we past hellos?” Dennis asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Just wondering if you were done with small talk,” he explained. “That’s usually when I’m allowed to start hitting on you.”

Mac grinned at him. He leaned further, into Dennis’s space.

“What’s your best line this time?” he asked.

Dennis bit his lip through his smile. Goddamn him twice, but the way he encouraged Dennis was just so fucking dumb. Really a terrible idea. Dennis would happily do his worst work all night if Mac kept goading him into it.

“Are you a donut?” he asked.

Mac raised his eyebrows.

“No,” he said, with a little laugh. “Why?”

“’Cause you’re all curves and sugar anyway,” said Dennis with a wink.

Mac nearly spat out his beer from bursting out into laughter. Dennis flushed rose but grinned back.

“I, uh, think that line works better on chicks,” said Mac. “Because I got no curves. I’m all beef. Like, totally strong, jacked, uh — beef.”

Dennis laughed.

“Actually, I don’t think that line’s ever worked on anyone,” he said ruefully, scratching at the back of his neck. “But, you know.”

“But I am ripped,” Mac said quickly.

Dennis eyed him critically, assessing. That was probably a stretch, but he didn’t want to say it; that kind of thing never went over well. He cleared his throat.

“Yep,” he said, nodding. “Total beefcake.”

It was the right thing to say; Mac grinned at him, bright and happy, and it made Dennis’s stomach light up too.

“Yeah?”

Dennis nodded fervently.

“Oh, sure. Totally. You’re like…” What descriptors usually went with meat? Free range. Premium. Natural diet. No, that last one was shitty. “You’re a total, uh, cow.”

What the fuck?

Dennis stared at Mac and Mac stared right back. He blinked, trying to get his brain to connect back to why the fuck he just said that, and ideally a way to get things back on track. Mac stared at him.

“Um,” he said slowly. “Did you just call me a cow?”

“I — What?” said Dennis. “No way. Or, I didn’t mean to. I meant to say that you’re, like…”

Pick anything, his mind screamed at him. Just reuse strong. Tell him he’s hot. Anything.

Mac prompted, “I’m…?”

Sexy. Totally bangable. Feel free to go off script, he told himself, and abandon the angle about how his gym habits have been working for him and just stick to something generic. Just grab the first word that came to mind; it would almost certainly be better than where he was going.

“A bull.”

A _bull_?

“A bull?” Mac echoed.

Dennis swallowed. He forced himself to shrug, a jerky, nervous thing.

“Uh, yeah,” he said, as casually as he could. If he just acted like this was where he meant to go with it, then he could convince Mac of it, too. “Bulls are male, and they’re, like, strong and aggressive.”

“You think I’m too aggressive?” Mac said, sounding faint. Jesus fucking Christ.

“No!” said Dennis, too loudly, gesturing wildly at this point. “No, I didn’t mean…God. Sorry. I got lost in my own metaphor, and I kind of…God, no. Never mind. Forget I said that. And also, uh, maybe the last two minutes or so.”

Before he straight-up died of humiliation, he thought grimly.

“You _don’t_ think I’m too aggressive though, right?” said Mac worriedly. “I’m sorry if I came on kinda strong, I just—”

“No way!” Dennis said. “No, you’re…You’re perfect, man. I’m the one who’s…”

He waved his hand around in the air in a vague gesture that he supposed meant anything from _a dipshit around hot guys_ to _definitely bumbling this beyond repair_. Possibly both of those things, and everything in between.

But Mac, incredibly, was smiling again.

“You think I’m _perfect_?” he teased, and Dennis went red again and rolled his eyes.

“Shut up,” he advised.

Mac laughed. Yeah, it was technically _at him_ , but Dennis found himself struggling to care. Mac’s gaze was ridiculously magnetic. To smooth things over a little, and to busy his hands, he poured some more whiskey into Mac’s glass. He made himself a glass too, then dashed in some bitters and sugar, and ice.

“No Charlie tonight?” Dennis asked, glancing at him as he worked.

“He’s got a thing with a junkyard cat,” said Mac vaguely.

“Oh…um, okay.”

“It’s usually safer not to ask, with Charlie,” said Mac. “But I think him and a couple guys he knows go goad feral cats until they attack them and it’s, like, foreplay or something. I don’t know.”

“Well his loss, my gain, right?” said Dennis, tipping him a smile.

“Mine too,” said Mac. “Although, um, I didn’t love the cow thing.”

“Forget I said that,” he said quickly. “Pretend I actually, like, touched your arm and said you were sexy.”

Mac propped his elbow up on the counter and flexed.

“It’s not too late,” he said. “For you to do that. I mean, if you want.”

He looked fucking stupid jerking his eyebrows like that but with something vulnerable lurking under his smile. Dennis kept his gaze locked on Mac’s when he reached out and wrapped his fingers loosely around his bicep, and squeezed.

“Like I said.” He squeezed again and then let go, lightly running his knuckles against his arm right above his tattoo, back and forth. Then he pulled back entirely. God, his stomach was bubbling. Slowly, he dragged his eyes up to Mac’s and finished, “Sexy.”

Mac breathed in, rattling and audible, and held it.

“I like your, um…hands,” Mac mumbled as he exhaled.

Dennis gulped down more of his whiskey coming up with a good way to respond to that. He really couldn’t afford digging himself any deeper than he already had tonight.

“You think they feel nice?” he said. “You should see what they can do.”

“Yeah?”

Dennis waggled them at him, like a wave.

“They’re very talented,” he promised.

“You should show me sometime,” said Mac, in a lower voice than before. Dennis raised his eyebrows. Mac hurried on, “Just because, you know, I’m not sure that I believe you.”

“Oh no?” Dennis laughed a little. “Well, you know you can have it anytime, big boy. Been offering for weeks.”

“That was you making a move?” said Mac with a little laugh.

“I made — many clear moves,” Dennis said, blinking at him. “I’m — Anyway—” He trailed off when he realized Mac was laughing at him. Dennis flicked a peanut at him. “You’re a dick. You knew I was.”

“I don’t always pick up on the clues, but even I could tell _that_ ,” Mac assured him.

There was a lull as Dennis finished off his whiskey and washed out the glass. Mac slid over his own empty glass when he was done and Dennis refilled it; he looked up at him, trying to feel out his silence. Dennis’s proposition was just hanging out there for the both of them to consider, but they had also halfway moved on from it and he wasn’t sure whether to loop back around or if he should take that as a rejection. But then, why did Mac keep coming back around to do this, whatever they were doing, if he didn’t want to come home with him?

Mac eyed him over his next glass of whiskey but didn’t say anything else. Dennis stuck around while he had another drink, but then he got called away to wait on other customers, and when he came back Mac had disappeared.

 

Down at the end of the bar, someone rapped their knuckles on the counter. Dennis glanced over to find Mac sitting there, grinning at him.

Dennis uncapped a Coors for him and passed it over. Mac slapped down a twenty.

“Hey,” said Dennis. He checked his watch; it was only four in the afternoon. “What are you doing here so early?”

Mac shrugged. A little smile was playing on his lips.

“Just was in the area, thought I’d swing by,” he said lightly. “What bad pickup line do you have for me today?”

Dennis tapped his chin with one finger, thoughtful.

“You know,” he said, casting him a flirty little smile. “You’re like a prize-winning fish.”

Mac laughed, bright and pretty. “Oh yeah? How’s that?”

Dennis split into a wider grin. “I don’t know whether to eat you or mount you.”

Mac burst out laughing even harder. Dennis shook along with him, not really amused by the joke as much as he was enthralled by Mac himself. God, he was nice to look at when he laughed.

“That one was pretty bad,” said Mac, tipping his beer at him. “Hey, I finally thought of one to give back to you.”

“Oh yeah?” Dennis folded his arms on the countertop, leaning close to him. “Hit me.”

Mac licked his lips slowly. He was tipped forward too, bringing himself closer to him over the bar, and his gaze flicked thoughtfully over what he could see of Dennis’s chest and face with the counter splitting him in the middle.

“Hey baby,” said Mac, voice pitched low; he was putting on a show but Dennis shivered anyway. “I’d like to use your thighs as earmuffs.”

His suggestive façade broke and he beamed at Dennis, wide and goofy. Dennis rolled his eyes and pretended like the tips of his ears weren’t burning red.

“Is that it?” he said.

“I liked it,” said Mac earnestly, relaxing again in his seat, a move which tragically brought him further away as he slumped a little on the counter. “Short, sweet, and to the point.”

“Like me,” Dennis said, jerking a thumb at his own chest.

“You’re not short or sweet,” Mac said.

“I’m forward.”

“Well, that’s true. That’s true.”

He drummed his fingers on the counter. Dennis reached out on a whim and brushed his hand against Mac’s wrist, watching him jump at the contact with more than just a little satisfaction.

“I could be sweet, too,” Dennis protested lightly.

“Oh yeah?” said Mac, chuckling a little, wrapping his hand back around the bottle. “Why haven’t you used some of that on me one of these days?”

“Maybe I don’t think you deserve it.”

“Oh yeah?” Mac tipped his bottle back again. “What _do_ I deserve, then?”

“My infinite charm, wit, and natural sex appeal seems to be working,” he said, spreading his hands. “I’ve got that formula down pat. Why mess with perfection?”

“What makes you think it’s working on me?” said Mac.

He finished the beer; Dennis swiped the bottle before it even hit the counter, tossed it, and got him a new one before he even unfroze enough to lower his outstretched hand. Dennis uncapped one for himself, too, and knocked it against Mac’s. Mac quirked an eyebrow at him, but he was smiling a little as he took a drink.

“You’re here at four p.m., on a Thursday,” said Dennis with a little shrug, and then he drank too so he didn’t have to see Mac’s reaction to that.

He could still hear Mac choke a little on his Coors, though.

“I’m just here for a beer,” Mac said, in a blatant attempt to recover. He paused, then said, “You know what? No, I came here on purpose.”

Dennis paused halfway through reaching for a lime wedge for his drink. He blinked at Mac, momentarily thrown off from their usual routine. That give and take, the back and forth where neither of them actually put a foot forward. Mac was watching him with a hard, careful gaze and Dennis just stared back, shaken. He swallowed.

“Why…” He chewed on his bottom lip for a long moment, processing, trying to think. “What’s special about today?”

Mac flicked his gaze over Dennis in a slow pass up and down his body. Then he licked his lips.

“I came in today ‘cause I’m bored of going home with other men,” said Mac, his voice a low and hypnotic grind. His gaze stuck on Dennis’s mouth for a long moment, then back up. “And I came in early to take you out to dinner.”

Dennis released his lip. He slid his elbows across the table, chin on his palms, as he got closer to him. Mac leaned in too, maybe unconsciously.

Dennis could pretend, act like his heart wasn’t beating so hard. Act like he wasn’t aching to suggest they blow off dinner and go directly back to his apartment. Or even just into the keg room or something — that was closer. God, why didn’t he and Dee ever put a mattress in the basement like they’d been joking about since they bought the place.

“I wasn’t going to take my break until eight,” said Dennis at last.

“I’m hurt,” said Mac, clutching at his chest. “I finally give in to your advances and you try to blow me off?”

“Now hold on,” said Dennis. Laughter was bubbling up in him, and Mac was grinning too. “First of all, I’m not blowing you off! Just because I can’t up and leave my _job_ whenever you decide to get around to realizing I’m about to be the best thing that’s ever happened to you is—”

“Oh, is _that_ so?”

“It is too!” said Dennis. “Anyway, I’m into dinner, man. I am.”

Mac’s smile softened, growing a little more hopeful instead. He raised his head a little. “You are? Yeah?”

Dennis hesitated a second, then breathed, “Yeah.”

They both paused, sharing glances. After a moment, Mac relaxed. Dennis sucked his bottom lip back into his mouth and let one of his hands drop, brushing his fingers along Mac’s forearm. They both watched him reach out, watched his hand moving; then Dennis flicked his gaze back up.

“What changed?” he asked.

Mac looked up from where he was still staring at the counter. He seemed like he’d been lost in thought. “Hmm?”

“What made you decide to finally ask me today? We’ve been at it for weeks.”

Mac smiled, slow and easy. He said, “I’ll tell you at dinner.”

Dennis raised his eyebrows, but Mac went back to looking at the counter and drinking, instead of elaborating. After a long moment, Dennis forced himself to unfreeze.

“So where are you treating me to, then?” he said lightly. “I’m barely dressed, so I hope it’s not anywhere too expensive. That would be rude. Of you, I mean, to do that to me. But nowhere too cheap either or it’s just a slap in the face.”

“I found a middle-ground that will work for you. Trust me,” said Mac. Dennis drew his hand back and Mac lashed out at once, grabbing for his wrist and pulling it back down to the counter. He drew his thumb across Dennis’s pulse, with just enough pressure to make his blood slow down to honey. Dennis’s heart leapt, embarrassingly. In a low voice, Mac added, “And you shouldn’t worry too much about how you look. Far as I’ve seen, you’re always good enough to eat.”

Dennis’s breathing hitched for a split second before it regained its regular rhythm. Mac had seen him with wine dumped all over his head, so that was saying a lot. Then again, Mac had also seen him flirting shamelessly with other men at the bar while Mac grinded on guys on the dancefloor. If the two things made them feel at all alike, it was no wonder he was looking at him like that. Besides, anything Mac said in a murmur like the one he was using was going to make Dennis’s knees go weak anyway. Dennis tensed a second, focusing on getting his heartbeat back under control. If Mac felt it where he still had Dennis’s wrist in a loose grip, he didn’t give any indication; he released him just to brush a thumb up to near the inside of his elbow and then drew his hand back.

“Give me an hour,” Dennis said decisively.

Mac looked back at him passively. After a second, Dennis slid Mac his own mostly-undrunk beer and slipped out from behind the counter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chap title is from Gorgeous by taylor swift
> 
> [lesbianfreyja on tumblr](http://lesbianfreyja.tumblr.com/post/179597647700) and a lover of mutual dumbassery everywhere xo


	2. don't take me tongue-tied

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two fools go on a first date.

The hour he promised Mac seemed to pass unbelievably slowly. He kept glancing over at him where he stayed parked at the bar, not really to check that he hadn’t taken off but because he was very distracting, even just sitting there hunched over and barely speaking as he was. Something about it just kept drawing Dennis’s focus, difficult to ignore even though there was nothing to see.

“Watch it!” somebody snarled.

Dennis jumped. He was nearly tipping a margarita into this woman’s lap.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, fumbling for his rag.

The woman just shoved his hands away.

“I got it,” she said, exasperated.

She pulled a bunch of a napkins out of the holder and dabbed it at her thighs. Dennis pushed his hand through his hair, exhaling hard. The woman cast him a nasty glare and he put the margarita down sharply; it spilled a little over the edge, onto his hand and the table. He gave her a sick little smile.

“Enjoy your night,” he said, half-snarling.

She gave him a sarcastic look back.

Muttering, Dennis reassembled the other drinks on his tray to redistribute the weight around. He inhaled steadily, trying to get his temper under control so he wouldn’t jeopardize his tips any more than he already was, between being so distracted and taking off early. With a tight sigh, Dennis whirled around to head for another table.

He didn’t make it one step before he pulled up short, and an alarm bell went off his in his head.

Mac was no longer alone at the bar, because he had been joined by the absolute worst person that could possibly speak to him in this moment. Dee was replacing his beer in front of him and counting out his change for the twenty that Dennis had never bothered to collect.

Dennis rushed to set down all the drinks left on his tray and hurried across the room toward whatever disaster was going down with his sister and his date. There was no scenario where that was a good combination. Someone was going to get punched, and it was possibly going to be himself.

But Dee was already passing over his money and finishing up by the time Dennis made it over there.

“Thanks for the shit beer,” said Mac.

“Feel free to be a stranger,” Dee retorted dryly.

Mac just laughed. Dee rolled her eyes and joined Dennis by the other end of the bar.

“What were you guys talking about?” Dennis demanded. “Don’t talk to him, Deandra, I don’t need you meddling—”

“Meddling? I’m not meddling!” she protested. “I’m doing my goddamn job, because you apparently can’t be bothered—”

“Let me handle him,” Dennis said. “I—”

“Yeah, I’ll bet you plan on handling him all night,” said Dee wryly. She grinned at him, big and mean, and Dennis lashed out and slugged her in the shoulder. Dee clutched automatically at her arm. “Ow! Fuck you!”

She shoved him back hard. Dennis stumbled and had to catch himself on the counter.

“I mean it, Dee,” he said fiercely, brandishing a finger in her face. “Stay out of this!”

“I don’t want to be _in_ it,” said Dee, flipping her ponytail off of her shoulder.

“Oh, please.” He rolled his eyes. “You’re always edging your way into things.”

Dee looked at him appraisingly, eyes narrowing. Goddamn it; Dennis’s stomach sank. He hated when Dee started contemplating things. Sure enough, a second later a big smile was stretching across her face.

“Tell you what,” she said, with very poor affected casualness. “You let me work the bar ‘til you leave. You take the floor. And I won’t talk to him, I won’t even look at him. You take the floor and the loser you’re taking home, and let me get everyone else at the counter.”

Dennis sighed.

“Dee, you bitch.”

“Or,” she said lightly, “you could take the bar like usual and I’ll just head on down and see if your _boyfriend_ doesn’t want to hear a few stories, you know, just get to know who he’s spending his night with before—”

“Alright, alright!” he said, harsh and hushed, flapping his hands at her. “Goddamn it, you’re so…Fine. Yes.”

Dee brightened. “Deal?”

“Deal,” he spat.

“Great,” she said cheerfully. “By the way, while we’re on the subject — _him_?”

She jerked her thumb over her shoulder at him without turning around. Mac happened to be staring right at her when she did it, and Dennis hastened to grab her wrist and pull it down to stop her from being so fucking obvious.

“Please at least _attempt_ to be subtle—”

“I mean, you’ve bedded some real losers, but seriously?” She laughed, pulling her arm out of his hands. “Dennis, he looks like he crawled out from under a bridge. And he’s wearing, like, ten times that amount of cologne a normal person would, _how_ is that not bothering you—”

“He is not that bad!” Dennis said stubbornly. “He’s — Okay, yes, the cologne is a little — but the rest of that is not fair, he’s _hot_ , he’s…he’s salt-of-the-earth, and—”

“Dennis, he looks like he’d try to carjack you and end up pissing himself when he got caught.”

Dennis scowled. “He does not.”

Dee laughed. She cracked open a beer on the edge of the bar and tipped it back, leaning a hip against the counter.

“Just because men have tattoos does not make them tough, Dennis. It just makes _you_ really, really gay for them.”

Dennis stood frozen, staring at her for a long few seconds. Dee grinned, wide and mean.

“You don’t know anything about men, you horrible, useless, lonely lesbian,” Dennis snapped at last. He snatched the beer out of her hand, and Dee gaped at him, a little offended about the theft of her drink. “Get back to work, and _stay away from Mac_.”

Dee held her hands up and edged around him. “Whatever, whatever.”

Mac didn’t comment on Dennis being the only one to serve him for the rest of the hour, except once to say, “Edged her away from the prime real estate, huh?” and Dennis just grunted and pretended not to hear.

Dennis grabbed his bomber jacket from the back room at five to five and swung it over his shoulders. Mac was already finishing off his beer when Dennis came back out to the main room, and he checked Dennis out unsubtly when he reappeared.

“Ready to go?” he asked lightly.

“Yep.”

Dennis nodded to Dee across the room, just to let her know he was leaving, and she gave a little wave back before pushing some stray hair behind her ear and going back to what she was doing. Dennis slipped his hands in his jacket pockets and Mac slung an arm over his shoulder, easy as if it was just some more casual flirting over drinks at the counter. Dennis leaned a little into his side, trying to pretend like a thrill didn’t rush through him when he slipped his arm around Mac’s waist. By the time they made it outside, to the sidewalk, he had even worked up to sticking a finger through a beltloop and pulling a little.

The walk wasn’t long, maybe ten minute or so. Dennis used the time to needle more information out of Mac about himself. Mac didn’t seem to be hiding anything, he just didn’t seem to find his own life particularly interesting, so it was a bit of a dig. Dennis had just gotten it cleared up that he was an only child and he’d gone to the Catholic school in the district over from where Dennis went when Mac pulled him to a stop and retracted the arm around him.

“This is my place,” he said.

Dennis considered the building only briefly before Mac was pulling him inside by the hand. It was a shitty old building but at least it had an elevator; once they were safely inside and Mac had hit the button for Floor 7, Dennis crossed his arms, leaning back on the wall.

“Are we just making a pit stop, or…?”

Mac looked around at him.

“No,” he said lightly. “Got a whole thing planned right here. I get to see where you work all the time. Now you can find out where I spend my day.”

Dennis nodded thoughtfully, his interested slightly piqued.

Mac fumbled a little with his keys, then pushed open the door to a neat but cramped studio apartment. Everything seemed to have an order but there was so much shit crammed on every single shelf that it was difficult to parse out what that order might be. The apartment was very small even without all the crap stuffed inside, with his bedroom and kitchen and living area all squeezed into the same room.

Mac took Dennis’s jacket and hung it up near the door while Dennis did a quick look around from his spot in the entrance. He zeroed in on the set table.

“You’re making me dinner?” he asked, surprised.

Even from right here, the meal smelled divine; whatever glaze he’d used was permeating the whole apartment, filling him up on the scent of orange and wine and honey. Mac’s hand touched the small of his back and caressed there, lightly, his thumb rubbing against his spine.

“It’s mostly already made,” said Mac. “Chicken takes a really long time for some reason.”

Mac’s hand was warm and big, spread out over his shirt. Dennis glanced at him and found Mac just looking at him, eyes steady on the side of his face.

“I’ll admit that it’s impressive,” he said, arching an eyebrow, still looking around.

“This place?” Mac asked in disbelief. He dropped his hand from Dennis’s back as he stared around too, as though making sure that they were indeed standing in his apartment and looking at the same garbage furniture that he appeared to have found on the street and hauled up here.

“What? No, the apartment is a shithole,” said Dennis with a little laugh. “I meant the food.”

“Oh.” Mac looked around for a split second, then shrugged. A strange rustling came from the only other room in the apartment, and Mac whirled around to look at him, eyes wide. “Oh, no. You’re not allergic to dogs, are you?”

“What?”

It was a good thing that he wasn’t, because a little patter of paws hitting the ground was already coming in from the one room he couldn’t see — presumably the bathroom. Then a mangy, truly ugly little dog came bounding in and skidded hard on the wood floor, pulling up short to sniff around at Mac’s ankles. Mac immediately dropped to his haunches to scratch behind its ears.

“Hey, buddy,” he cooed. He grinned up at Dennis, who just looked back impassively. Dennis honestly didn’t care for dogs but he wasn’t going to break that news and risk Mac’s excited, open face. “Dennis, this is Poppins. He’s been with me since I was a kid, and he’s totally indestructible. Almost as badass as me. Poppins, this is Dennis. What do you think?”

The little dog just stared up at Dennis for a long moment. Dennis met its gaze determinedly. Then it abruptly fell over onto its side — Dennis thought that perhaps it had died, which would really put a damper on the evening, but Mac just reached to scratch its belly instead. He was grinning the whole time.

“Okay,” said Mac, using his knees to push himself back up. “I just need to put a couple finishing touches on dinner, and then we can eat. Do you wanna sit?”

He gestured at the couch. Dennis nodded, turning toward it, but he paused at the last second and reached out to grab Mac’s arm. Mac turned back toward him, open and curious.

“You know, what if this went wrong?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You cooked dinner before you even asked me to come over,” said Dennis, laughing a little. “What if I said no?  Then you’re stuck having done all this work for nothing. That’s a whole lot of confidence for—”

He was abruptly startled out of wandering down the road of unfortunate alternate realities to this one when Mac leaned his face in close, and Dennis hiccupped to the end of his sentence. Mac’s nose brushed in next to Dennis’s, and he paused for a split second, his gaze flicking from Dennis’s mouth to his eyes and back. Dennis closed his eyes.

Mac kissed him, brief and insistent. Dennis forgot to move his hands for a few long seconds, and he just stood there, leaning into Mac and letting himself get kissed. Then he finally remembered to do something besides respond to the pressure of his lips, and he spread his hands out across Mac’s back, over his shoulder blades. Mac capitulated to the pressure a little, leaning more of his weight against Dennis. His fingers dug in right above Dennis’s waist.

He pulled away too soon, and Dennis opened his eyes slowly. Mac smiled at him, loose and happy.

Voice just a little bit rougher than before, Mac said, “I knew you wouldn’t say no.”

Dennis snorted a little, rolling his eyes. Mac knocked the edge of one hooked finger under Dennis’s chin, then grinned. He scooped up the dog still splayed at their feet under one arm and brushed past Dennis to head for the stove, whistling something out of tune. Dennis threw himself down on the couch and found a rerun of Jeopardy to watch on TV until dinner was ready.

Mac was done less than ten minutes later. The table was a little cluttered due to lack of space but it looked nice; he had clearly tried hard. The food looked good, and they each had a glass of wine filled nearly to the top set on either side of the ugly centerpiece. Dennis tilted his head, trying to figure out what it was, but no matter how he squinted he couldn’t make it look like anything other than various newspapers rolled up and shoved in a bowl alongside a random assortment of tchotchkes.

“So, I know that this is all kind of… _intimate_ for a first date,” said Mac as he struggled to light the solitary candle, a note of apology in his voice. “But, well…I don’t have a lot of money and this is easier. And anyway, like you said, you’re underdressed so — so I guess it worked out anyway.”

“What happened to thinking I looked like a five course meal?” Dennis said mildly. “Here, let me do it.”

Mac handed over the lighter. It didn’t help that he was using a Zippo instead of one of those long ones that you were supposed to use for things like candles and fireplaces. Dennis got the job done though, while Mac was just sitting across the table with his elbows propped up, watching him moonily.

“I never said you didn’t look fucking fantastic,” said Mac conversationally, and Dennis’s gaze jumped to him and stuck. “I just said you were underdressed.”

“You wouldn’t prefer doing this in a suit and tie?” Dennis asked wryly. He put the lighter down next to his plate and picked up the wine glass, sniffing at it and swilling it around.

Mac’s cheeks were burning red but he looked Dennis bravely in the eye and he seemed awfully proud of himself for that when he said, “The less clothes on you, the better.”

Dennis choked on his wine. Mac grinned and started to cut up his chicken.

The candle flickered, and the chair was a little creaky, and the wine was a little too bitter. But the food was amazing and even that dimmed in comparison to Mac, shooting him happy little glances and asking how Dennis was liking his food.

Dennis sipped at the wine and then looked up at Mac decisively. He cleared his throat.

“So,” he said steadily, “we’re at dinner now.”

Mac looked up. He raised his eyebrows. “We sure are.”

“You said you’d tell me at dinner,” Dennis said, waving his fork. “Earlier, when I asked you why you finally asked me out today instead of any of the other nights you’ve come by.”

“Oh, yeah.” Mac didn’t say anything for a long moment, though; his cheeks were tinged a little pink, weirdly, and he was staring at his plate like picking out which bite of chicken to eat next was endlessly fascinating and required all of his attention. When he did peek up at Dennis, he just said, more than a little defensively, “You know, you could have asked me out too, any of those times. It’s not just me.”

“I’m not blaming you,” Dennis said blankly. “I was just asking what was different. What was the tipping point, you know? Which one of the witty, slick lines I busted out on you was the one that finally did the trick?”

Mac burst out laughing before Dennis even finished the question; he blushed a little too, but he was grinning.  Mac finally looked at him squarely.

“Sure, sure,” he said. “It was the lines. Totally.”

“One hundred percent,” Dennis agreed easily. “I knew it.”

He didn’t say anything more, looking across at Mac in prompting silence instead. Mac bit his lip.

“Okay,” he said on a sigh, “I didn’t ask you sooner because I didn’t think you’d say yes.”

Dennis’s forehead creased. “But you said—”

“I know,” Mac interrupted. “Christ, this is stupid…From the way we were talking, I kind of thought you just wanted a one-off thing. To, you know, hook up once or twice and never see me again. And I wanted to…Take you out.” He looked around at the table. “I guess I really didn’t do that either. But I didn’t want to just, like, fool around and go home. I wanted to do the whole…date thing.”

“Oh.” Dennis blinked, trying to process this. He couldn’t possibly imagine what would prompt Mac to want to spend any more time with him than it would take to jizz in each other’s mouths, but whatever. Not that he didn’t enjoy his _own_ company, but— “What made you decide that?”

Mac shrugged. He was smiling again, light and easy, when he answered, “I don’t know. Maybe I just thought it was cute how hard you were trying to get me.”

Dennis flushed. He chewed around at the bite he was working on, trying to come up with a good answer to that, but he didn’t, and he didn’t, and then too much time had passed so anything he said would be awkwardly outside the moment anyway. Mac looked delightfully smug as he popped more food in his mouth.

Mac cleared the table for him when they were done eating, although he didn’t clean up so much as just dump everything in the sink in a heap. Dennis poured them two more glasses filled with wine, finishing off the bottle, then brought them over to the couch and set them down on the coffee table; Mac wanted to watch a movie.

“Your collection is shit, man,” Dennis called, thumbing through the few DVDs he could see stuffed onto a shelf out in the open.

Mac came over to him, pushing his hands away.

“Not there,” he said. He dropped to a crouch and starting rifling through a cabinet instead. “You got an opinion on Fincher over Tarantino?”

Dennis bit his lip, deliberating this. Fincher made better art, but he wasn’t in the mood to have to pay too much attention.

“Tarantino,” he said decisively. Mac tossed him the Pulp Fiction case.

They settled in on the couch together after flicking out the lights; even though there was plenty of room on the loveseat to sit apart, Mac sprawled out with his arm around Dennis’s shoulders and Dennis leaned into his side to get comfortable. Mac wanted a date, he was sure going to get one.

Around minute twenty, Dennis was _really_ glad he had picked the film that required less focus. Sitting this close to him for so long had been making an itch build up under his skin, steadily getting more intense, and he wasn’t watching so much anymore because all his attention was on figuring out how to finesse Mac into making out instead. Everyone knew that’s what movies at the end of a date meant, everyone — but Dennis had also seen the line “come here often?” sail directly over Mac’s head, so he was pretty sure he was going to have to work for it anyway. He started glancing sideways every now and again, but Mac’s eyes were glued to the TV every single time that he checked. He seemed altogether more interested in Pulp Fiction than he was in Dennis sitting under his arm, no matter how often Dennis turned fully to look at him.

Dennis shifted closer to him. Mac’s fingers brushed, light and meaningless, against his shoulder. Dennis shifted again, and he slipped his hand over Mac’s knee, halfway onto his thigh. Mac’s legs spread a little on instinct, and he lounged further down the couch; he turned a little to flash a grin at him.

Dennis didn’t move fast enough, and then Mac was looking back at the movie. He deliberated with himself, annoyed that he let Mac go back to watching a fucking Tarantino film instead of moving in on him, for another minute or two. Mac’s hand tightened on his shoulder. Dennis slid his hand up a little further up his leg.

That’s what finally made Mac turned to look at him, his lips parted slightly. Dennis lurched forward, reached up with the hand not busy sliding farther up between Mac’s legs, and tilted Mac’s face toward him with three fingers. On the same movement he leaned in and pressed his mouth to Mac’s for the second time that night.

Mac didn’t even pause before he was kissing Dennis back, like he hadn’t just spent twenty minutes acting like he didn’t realize Dennis was there. He cradled the side of his face in one of his hands and pressed in; Dennis rocked up closer to him, kissing him harder, and in a moment Mac had settled a hand over one of his hips and was stroking his thumb gently back and forth against his waist over his t-shirt. Dennis settled back in his seat, tugging Mac down with him; when his lips parted, Mac at least had the sense, then, to tilt his head to capture his mouth again and gently flick his tongue out against his lower lip.

The movie played on in the background, albeit dimly compared to the sudden cacophony in his head. Dennis threaded his fingers through the back of Mac’s hair, keeping him pressed close as he curled his tongue against his own and slowly rolled it along the roof of his mouth. Mac shivered, intensely and almost immediately; Dennis barely pulled back to grin before he pulled him in closer and did it again, and again, until finally Mac pinned him by the shoulders and pressed him hard into the back of the couch, keeping him immobile as he kissed him slow and dirty, but in charge.

Dennis fisted a hand into the back of his shirt. Mac was already leaning over him, what with the way he had Dennis shoved back against the couch, and it took little effort to sling a thigh over his lap. Dennis immediately spread his hand out on his leg, rubbing back and forth with a gentle pressure. Mac shifted around, getting comfortable before he sat back. It released a little of the weight pushing Dennis back into the cushions and he used the new freedom to rock up, kissing him hard and deep again while he slipped hands up the back of Mac’s shirt. Mac groaned, mouth falling open a little further, his body going a little more slack in his hands.

Mac was only out of the game for a second before he was back in it, brain stuttering back to life. He shoved Dennis hard and took back control, kissing him firm and purposeful. Dennis groaned, hips jerking helplessly; his fingers curled on instinct and his nails dug hard into Mac’s back as his tongue thrust relentlessly into his mouth. Dennis just arched his body up and let Mac curl his own to meet him.

Mac started rocking minutely at first, just sitting in his lap. It was only a little bit, almost unnoticeable because of how Dennis kept rocking up to keep their mouths sealed together every time Mac sat back a little for breath, but soon it was difficult to miss. Dennis scratched roughly down his back again and spread his hands out over Mac’s thighs, fingers digging in. He grabbed hard for Mac’s ass with one hand, dragging him in closer, and Mac tipped Dennis’s head back with the hand spread out on his cheek, moaning lowly into his mouth.

Dennis laughed a little, not mean, and spread his fingers out through Mac’s hair. Mac rocked a little harder in his lap, pushing closer. Dennis’s fingers were already creeping up between his thighs, brushing up against the bulge in his jeans.

“God, you’re…” The sentence stuttered out to a halt somewhere with his mouth near Mac’s throat. How exactly were you supposed to more or less blurt out to a guy that he’s packing enough heat to make you want to spread out on the couch with your ass in the air? There didn’t seem like there was a casual way to mention that. “Christ, Mac, I’m usually the one getting touched.”

He pulled back suddenly, biting his lip. Definitely not casual.

Mac only ducked, hands cradling either side of his face, to kiss him quick and simple.

“Okay,” he mumbled, but he was half-panting into Dennis’s mouth as he said it and Dennis grabbed at his sides, pulling him back in close. “Okay, yeah. I can do that.”

He half-shoved Dennis down onto his couch cushions, and Dennis capitulated with a low moan as he spread his legs to accommodate Mac’s hips in between them. Mac rocked down, not that hard and barely there at first, and Dennis’s squeezed his waist between his knees as he kissed him again.

“Yeah,” he panted, scrabbling to tug on Mac’s hair and kiss him hard again, “yeah, okay. Like that.”

Mac groaned softly and did it again. Quickly he had established a rhythm, jerking his cock up against Dennis in abortive motions and letting Dennis rock back into the cradle of his hips when he pulled back slightly. Dennis shoved his hands back up Mac’s shirt, digging his nails into his back.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, “yeah, big boy, you wanna fuck me—?”

Mac laughed gently, even as he dragged his mouth down Dennis’s jaw. Lips touching right beside his mouth, feathering up his cheek, mouth working just under Dennis’s ear. Dennis tried to scowl and just ended up breathing hard against Mac’s throat.

“What’s so funny?” he pressed.

Mac’s hands spread over Dennis’s waist and gripped tight — hips working against Dennis, tongue licking up against his neck.

“Nothing,” Mac breathed. “You’re funny when you’re turned on.”

Dennis wanted to protest but Mac kissed him again and he forgot what he was angry about; instead he wrapped his arms around Mac’s back and arched up against him with a moan as Mac ground hard and dirty between his legs.

“C’mere,” he said breathlessly, at odds with how he shoved Mac back a little a second later. It was only so he could tug Mac’s shirt up until Mac reached to pull it off over his head.

“Yeah, you too,” Mac said as soon as he was free from his shirt. His hands were already scrabbling to pull on the hem of Dennis’s. “Undressed.”

Dennis wriggled around a little to get it off, and ended up needing Mac’s help pulling his wrists free when it got tangled around them. Mac more or less fell on top of him as soon as he was bare-chested.

“You wanna go to my bed?” he panted.

Dennis licked his lips. His throat felt impossibly dry and he was nodding swiftly before he even managed to rush out saying yes.

Minimal touching as they got up off the couch, a little more when they crossed the room to his bed. Dennis was already pulling off his jeans before Mac got around to doing the same, but at least that meant Dennis was free to touch him while he did it. It was difficult not to; the temptation to spread his hands out on Mac’s naked torso was overwhelming and, more, importantly, there was nothing actually stopping him from doing so. He reached out and touched him, freely and liberally — across his chest, over his arms, on his back and down to squeeze his ass. Mac bent down to pull his jeans free from around his ankles and Dennis let his hand trail up Mac’s spine and brush through his hair when he was doubled over. Mac glanced up at him, saw the look on his face, and immediately dropped onto his knees.

“Yeah?” he asked, hands already stroking over Dennis’s hips.

“Yeah,” Dennis breathed.

Mac was good at giving head, but even if he wasn’t, he was really fucking enthusiastic about it and that made it fantastic anyway. Dennis’s thighs were already shaking by the time he got around to pulling away so he could breathe, and Dennis sat down hard on the edge of the bed he had been half-leaning on. Mac just crawled closer to him like he was desperate to be sucking his dick again. Jesus Christ, one day Dennis was going to fuck him if his life depended on it and there was going to be a real chance of his heart giving out when he did.

Mac let Dennis pull his hair, he let Dennis thrust into his mouth until he was nearly choking, he let Dennis do whatever he wanted. He seemed to actively want it, always moaning when he did. Looking down at him enthusiastically on his knees, Dennis was seized with the sudden and really weird urge to take him to dinner. Somewhere nice next time, he fucking deserved it. When he tugged on Mac’s hair and gasped, “I’m gonna cum, Mac, I’m gonna—” Mac barely released the pressure around him, and he _moaned_ when Dennis came. He swallowed it eagerly. After, Mac sat back, licking at his lips idly, and Dennis groaned looking at him. He swept his hand back through Mac’s hair and leaned down to kiss him. Mac sucked on Dennis’s lower lip, hands braced on his thighs, for a long moment before he pulled away.

“Come here, I wanna touch you.”

Mac stood up and Dennis stroked over his thighs. Mac was panting, watching Dennis watch his hands run greedily all over him. After a moment, he forced himself to pull his hands back, and he got Mac lying down on his pillows so he could crouch down between his legs to tongue at him too.

Mac was way less respectful than Dennis was when getting head. He freely thrust hard into Dennis’s mouth, moaning loudly at everything he did and twisting the sheets in his fists so tightly that they started to come off the mattress at the corner. Dennis knew he gave phenomenal blowjobs but Mac was ridiculously sensitive too, and it just made every shout of Dennis’s name in the quiet apartment twice as gratifying.

Dennis swallowed most of it when Mac came, and when he crawled up the mattress to lay next to him, Mac swiped the rest of the mess off his face with gentle thumbs. He pulled Dennis down to lay next to him and then just cuddled up to him without compunction, sneaking one of his thighs between Dennis’s and tugging Dennis down to lay his head on Mac’s chest. He did, palm flattening out near his cheek, and it was right where he could feel Mac’s heart beating beneath it.

They lay like that for a while, not saying anything. Mac’s heartbeat calmed down, and Dennis was tired. The very end of Pulp Fiction was still playing on TV across the room, flickering light over the empty couch. Dennis lay there listening to what was going on onscreen, half-following the plot. It was weirdly hypnotizing.

“Okay,” he said after a long while, sitting up. Mac made a low noise of protest and tugged weakly on his arm. “I gotta get back down to the bar, dude. Dee’s not expecting me to be gone all night, and if I don’t go back and help her close up, she’ll steal all my tips and half of what’s in the register.”

“Stay here just for like, five more minutes.”

They looked at each other. It was really very tempting, Mac sitting there with a half-pleading, half-pouty expression, naked and spread out on his sheets. Ready and willing for Dennis to ravish him or curl up with him, whichever he wanted. In another twenty minutes, Dennis could probably convince him to jerk each other off or something.

But the bar was waiting, as was Dennis’s half of the money. If he didn’t go down, he was effectively throwing away a hundred bucks for a chance to get laid.

“I can’t,” he sighed at last. He was already scooting off the bed and starting to gather his clothes, tugging them on. “I want to, I do. If I stay here any longer I’m going to pass out.”

Mac said nothing as he watched Dennis get dressed. He did get up and walk Dennis over to the door, albeit still naked. If it was a plot to get Dennis back in bed, it was a really good one. Dennis pulled his bomber jacket back on and then tugged Mac close, and he kissed him slowly for a long, long moment. Mac’s hands spread out on his waist, and Dennis tipped closer.

“Can I see you again?” Mac asked when he stepped back.

Dennis smiled at him as he opened the door. He stepped close and pressed a quick kiss to his parted lips.

“Come back to the bar this weekend and find out.”

 

“Heyo,” said Mac as he rounded the counter, Charlie in tow.

Dennis looked up and grinned at him. Dee yelled something about him not being allowed back there but they both ignored her, as they did every single time that Mac came behind the bar in the four months they’d been dating. Dennis was already turning toward him anyway and wrapping his arms around Mac’s neck to kiss him in hello.

“Hey,” he said when Mac released his grip on his waist and Dennis let him go so he could step back. “How was work?”

“Totally shitty,” Mac sighed. They both ignored Dee protesting, again, as Mac reached down and started unscrewing a bottle of rum and started making a very imprecise rum and coke. Dee threw her hands up and stalked off. Dennis sidled a little closer; Charlie looked at them with raised eyebrows for a couple of seconds before disappearing to go heckle Dee instead. “So, my boss starts throwing a fit because I’m like, _less_ than an hour late. Threatens to fire me if I do it again, which is total bullshit, I’ve been working there for six years and he wants to _fire_ me? Okay.”

“Uh huh,” Dennis agreed vaguely. He had now managed to inch his way close enough that his hip was touching Mac’s, and Mac didn’t even acknowledge it. Dennis ran a hand up his back, and Mac leaned into him.

“So, I’m standing there, right, been working for like nine hours and he wants to call me in and have a _chat_ ,” Mac went on scathingly. He put the rum down hard on the counter and took a big gulp from the glass. “Total bullshit, I’m already thinking, okay, I’m gonna spit in his goddamn face and quit if he tries to fire me first.”

“Makes sense,” Dennis agreed easily. He tousled his fingers through Mac’s hair lightly and then dropped his hand to hook a thumb through a belt loop, pulling him against him slightly.

“Whatever,” said Mac, drinking more rum and shaking his head. His expression cleared after a moment and he looked over at Dennis. “What about you? How was your day?”

“I woke up at three, came in, started drinking, and now you’re here,” said Dennis. “So, a good day so far.”

“Lucky you,” Mac said sourly.

Dennis just laughed. Mac softened the longer he stood there looking at him, and at last he passed Dennis the drink so Dennis could take a healthy sip and Mac could turn to face him, and use his free hands to pull on Dennis’s waist until they were pressed together. Dennis leaned into him and Mac laced his fingers against the small of his back.

“I like it when you wear green,” Mac said absently. His thumb was rubbing a little into Dennis’s back and he leaned into it, passing back the rum. “It makes you look good.”

“I always look good,” Dennis said, affronted.

“Yeah, but I mean, especially good.”

They just stood there for a long few seconds, looking at each other and smiling. Then Mac released him and picked his drink back up, and Dennis slung an arm over his shoulders.

“Hey, Mac,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “Guess what.”

“What?”

“You like this sweater? Guess what it’s made out of.”

Mac turned to look at him directly. Something like warning was sitting etched on his face. “You’re not—”

“ _Boyfriend_ material,” he said delightedly, and Mac groaned.

“Oh, dude. Dude. Hon, I love you, but that was terrible. It’s such a cliché.”

Dennis was still laughing, proud and exultant. Mac shook his arm off his shoulders.

“Absolutely not, I’m not condoning that.”

“Too late,” Dennis said, wrapping his arm back around him and jostling him a little. Mac rolled his eyes, but he was reluctantly smiling at the same time.

“I _know_ you can do better than that,” he said. “I’ve heard better lines from johns trying to pick up the working girls around the corner.”

“Which one of us is the two-dollar hooker in this scenario?”

Mac’s bottom lip jutted out when he was seriously thinking something over, regardless of how trivial the actual discussion at hand was. It was honestly adorable, how he treated every question posed to him with complete sincerity, and Dennis barely resisted saying so.

“You,” Mac said at last, and Dennis gaped at him.

“Hey!”

Mac was laughing when Dennis swatted at him, prying his wrists apart and ducking in to kiss him, soft and sweet. Dennis stubbornly held his ground until Mac let him go, and he crossed his arms tightly over his chest as Mac leaned his hip against the counter.

“How about this one instead?” Dennis offered. “Your lips look lonely. Do they wanna meet mine?”

Mac was grinning. He shifted a little closer, fingers brushing up against Dennis’s forearm.

“I heard you had a boyfriend,” he answered. “Fine, but let me know if you’re looking for a husband.”

Dennis pressed his lips shut. “Your name’s stupid. Can I call you mine instead?”

“Did you accidentally sit in sugar?” Mac threw back. “’Cause you have a pretty sweet ass.”

Dennis burst out laughing for a split second before he got himself under control. He worked his expression back into something serious, and trailed his fingers along the bottom of Mac’s t-shirt, watching him shiver. He said, “I hate this shirt. Can I talk you out of it?”

“Sure,” said Mac easily. Dennis flattened his palm against Mac’s stomach and slid it up toward his chest, watching his hand move as he reached and cradled his cheek with it. Mac grabbed his wrist and turned to press a kiss to the underside. “Hey, did you find my underwear on your bedroom floor?”

Dennis tilted his head. His hand dropped to Mac’s arm, squeezing at his bicep.

“No.”

Mac grinned, tilting his face closer. “Do you wanna?”

Dennis brushed his thumb against Mac’s tattoo and leaned in closer; when he laughed, they were nearly kissing.

“You look so familiar. Have we met before?”

Mac’s attention was hyper-focused on his mouth. “Maybe. Why?”

“’Cause you look like my next ex-boyfriend.”

“Don’t joke about that,” Mac said, and he took Dennis’s face in his hands and pulled him down to kiss again. Dennis rocked back with him, fingers tightening on Mac’s arms.

They swayed on the spot. Dennis pulled back just to readjust the angle of their mouths, breathing in the second or so in between. Mac’s hands slid down his chest and curled around his waist, dipping down to slide into his back pockets. Dennis pulled his lower lip in between his teeth when he squeezed. When he kissed him again it was wetter, deeper. Mac pulled one of hands out of his jeans and trailed it in a loose, aimless way up the back of Dennis’s shirt. Mindlessly tracing patterns against his spine.

Someone slammed a glass down on the counter next to them and Dennis pulled away; Mac jumped back so fast he slammed his hip into the counter and recoiled, cursing. Dennis turned to arch an eyebrow at the guy shooting them a dirty look and waving vaguely for attention.

“Um, hello? Do you work here?” He gestured at one of the tables nearby. “We’ve been waiting for service for like, ten minutes.”

Dennis rolled his eyes toward Mac. “Be right back,” he muttered, following the guy out behind the bar and over to his table.

They were busy that night, like they were a lot of nights. Even though Pride Month was over, there was still a little uptick in their amount of customers through the next few months as their June popularity spilled over, until people started getting bored. That only lasted until the small resurgence during the parade in October. Mac sat behind the counter hanging out with Charlie, and fighting with Dee every now and again over how much of their rum he was drinking. Dennis moved around, working the floor and flirting for tips and smiling up at Mac whenever he got the chance.

It was a long shift but he was drinking beer during it, so by the time two a.m. rolled around, he was sitting with his legs stretched out in a booth with Mac slumped on his chest, and he felt warm and awake despite working for so long. He had his arms wrapped around Mac, loosely, and he was picking at a hole in the thigh of Mac’s jeans.

“Do you think God is hot?” Mac mused.

“Yeah,” Dennis said. “I mean, He made man in His image and shit, right? And men are hot. Ergo, God’s a beefcake.”

“That’s true,” said Mac, nodding thoughtfully. “Hey, do you think He’d bang me?”

“Who wouldn’t?”

“You’re right…”

Mac scratched at the label on his beer and Dennis watched his fingers move. He really liked watching Mac’s fingers, even when they weren’t doing anything important. Something about it…It didn’t exactly make Dennis feel lucky, because he’d put a lot of work into getting Mac in the first place, but it sure made him appreciate what he had.

“Hey,” he said. He scratched idly at Mac’s chest until Mac tilted his head to look up at him, and then Dennis spread his hand back out on Mac’s thigh and squeezed. “If I never started hitting on you, would you have ever talked to me?”

Mac squinted at him. “What?”

“I just mean,” he sighed, gesturing with the hand not petting Mac’s thigh, “if I never started up a conversation past getting your same drink order a billion times, would you have ever realized you wanted me? Or would you have just sat there doing bullshit with Charlie forever and waiting for some fucking…Jesus-looking beefcake to come over and try to pick you up?”

He gestured vaguely over to where Charlie was fighting with Dee over the best way to clean the bathrooms.

“Now hold on,” said Mac, brandishing a finger in the air, “several things there. First of all, I hit on guys all the time if you’ll remember correctly—”

“I’m just asking,” Dennis interrupted loudly. “Would you have ever realized you were into me if I didn’t make you realize it first?”

Mac laughed. He dropped his hand and covered Dennis’s with it, right over on his leg. He squeezed a little.

“Who cares, Den?” he said.

“I’m just asking.”

“Well, I don’t wanna waste a bunch of time talking about bullshit _what if_ scenarios.”

“But—”

“You _did_ talk to me, and I _did_ realize I liked you, and we _did_ end up banging each other’s brains out,” Mac said exasperatedly. “And then you realized you wanted me beyond just getting me in the sack, and then _you_ told me you loved me _first_ behind an Applebee’s after their dollarita special. Who gives a shit about what might have happened? I think things shook out pretty well, all things—”

He didn’t get to finish the sentence before Dennis leaned down and kissed him hard, Spider-Man style. Mac groped helplessly at the side of his face with the hand not still holding onto Dennis’s.

Dennis pulled back a little, giving Mac a second to breathe, giving himself a second to mumble, “I love you, baby,” between soft presses of their mouths. It came out a little shaky, the way it always did. Voice hitching just a little, because he said it regularly but he could never quite believe he was admitting that out loud. It was scary every single time but it always just built up and up and up until it burst out of him, no matter what.

Mac gripped him a little tighter, swaying back a little.

“I fucking love you,” he breathed, and he pressed his lips back to Dennis’s, insistent and needy. Mac kissed him and kissed him until some of the anxiety that always came with saying the words ebbed out of his chest and he forgot everything except Mac touching his face, and kissing him more gently now, and how he felt when they touched.

They relaxed away from each other after a moment, Dennis settling back against the wall, Mac turning back around fully and slumping against his chest again. He nestled a little closer to Dennis, and Dennis brushed his fingers against Mac’s knuckles and then through his hair.

After a moment he smiled a little and said, “Hey, Mac?”

Mac tilted his head up to look at him again. “Yeah?”

“Do you mind if I walk you home later?”

“Uh, sure,” he said, brow furrowing. “Why? I thought we both were going back to my place anyway—”

“Yeah,” said Dennis with a little shrug. He split into a grin. “It’s just, you know, I was always told I should follow my dreams.”

Mac was shaking his head before he was even done talking, and Dennis was laughing through half the sentence anyway. Mac twisted around in his seat and tugged some of Dennis’s shirt into his fist, pulling him close.

“Shut the fuck up,” he said, teasingly menacing. “Your lines are all shit.”

Dennis grinned. “They worked on you.”

Mac rolled his eyes. He pulled on his shirt a little more, and Dennis swayed close to him. But he heard Mac mumble, “Yeah, so what?” right before he leaned up and kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm [lesbianfreyja](http://lesbianfreyja.tumblr.com/post/180152425220) on tumblr and i said morosexual RIGHTS babey


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